


Time

by lostresidentevilpotter



Series: What If? [6]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 06:40:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20354065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostresidentevilpotter/pseuds/lostresidentevilpotter
Summary: Alternate 5x10: Alicia and Al are sent to the mall to help Chuck and squeeze in some quality time together. Canon up through 5x09.





	Time

Honestly, if Alicia had been given any say in the matter at all, Al would not have been her first choice of travel companions. Or second. Or even third. It would be, in this order: Luciana, Strand, Charlie, literally anyone, then Al. Well, that’s not entirely true. She’d choose Al over June, but she’s rethinking that as Al cranks the volume on a country CD and shouts more than sings along.

Alicia knew she should’ve jumped at the opportunity to drive, but when Morgan put the keys in her hands, she immediately slapped them into Al’s palm. Al’s fingers closed around the keys, and she smirked and said, “Driver picks the music.”

But Alicia didn’t think Al would choose _country_. And not even good country.

“I didn’t know you liked country,” Alicia yells over both the music and Al’s bad scream-singing.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Alicia,” Al replies with a lopsided grin. “I’m a chick with layers.”

Alicia rolls her eyes, but damn it, Al’s actually right. Alicia barely knows anything about her. If Alicia made a list of everything she knows definitively about Al, it’d look like this:

  1. Her full name is Althea Szewczek-Przygocki.

  1. She prefers Al but doesn’t totally hate Althea.

  1. She’s a journalist.

  1. She likes really bad country music.

  1. She’s a fucking bad driver.

There are a lot of things Alicia can assume about Al. But if Alicia had to put her life on what she is absolutely certain she knows about Al, it’s those five things. To be fair, Alicia barely spends any time with Al. Especially not any quality time with _just_ Al. There’s always someone else around. How the hell do you get to know someone when you never have the chance to talk to them?

Well, here’s Alicia’s fucking chance. And she’d rather not have it. She doesn’t know how to act around Al. If she was with Luciana, and Luciana was blasting really awful music, Alicia would pop the CD out of the player and chuck it out the window. But for all Alicia knows, if she tried that with Al, Al might pull over and beat her into a pulp. She probably wouldn’t do that, but Alicia has no way of knowing for sure. She’s never found herself alone with Al for longer than five minutes.

Until now. Now, they’re flying down the road, and Al’s singing the wrong words to a country song Alicia couldn’t name to save her life. Al’s got her arm dangling out the window, her other hand resting on the top of the steering wheel. The wind blows Al’s hair back from her face, but it’s whipping Alicia’s hair all over the place, and before long, Alicia gathers it back into a ponytail. She’s not about to ask Al to roll the window up. She’s not about to ask Al anything, quite honestly.

The song ends, and Al takes her hand off the wheel to turn the music down. She swerves abruptly to avoid hitting debris, throwing Alicia around a bit. Al just smiles and continues to drive.

“So let’s just be honest, yeah?” Al says. Alicia tears her eyes away from the passing trees and sets them on the side of Al’s face. As much time as Alicia has spent around Al the past…has it already been a year? Alicia doesn’t know. However long it’s been, Alicia’s never really taken the time to actually look at Al. Sure, she’s looked at her, but Alicia’s never _stared_. Why would she?

“Yeah,” Alicia agrees, swallowing hard. “Let’s be honest.”

Al’s lips curve upward, and she spares a glance Alicia’s way. Their eyes lock, briefly, and Alicia absorbs whatever information she can. Al’s jawline is sharp. There’s a faint scar on her forehead, left over from the plane crash. The one side of her head’s been recently buzzed back down, probably by Grace or June – or maybe Al did it herself. She’s got her usual jacket buttoned over her usual button down. The last thing Alicia notices before Al speaks again is the small hole in her earlobe that indicates she’s had pierced ears once upon a time. Alicia can’t recall ever seeing Al with any kind of jewelry in her ears, but maybe she overlooked it. Alicia has overlooked a lot, especially since her mother died. For the longest time, Alicia’s been simply going through the motions. Following Morgan’s lead, because it’s easier than trying to lead herself.

“You don’t want to be here with me,” Al says matter-of-factly. Alicia opens her mouth, but Al shakes her head and reminds, “Honesty, remember? You’d rather be on this run with anyone else. And I get it. We don’t really know each other. We don’t really have a reason to get to know each other, apart from the whole _living in the same caravan_ thing. But we run in different circles. We’re only in this together because Morgan has something more pressing to take care of, right?”

“Right,” Alicia mumbles. If Grace hadn’t collapsed, Alicia would be on her way to the mall with Morgan instead. Which would’ve been fine. Morgan’s good with extended silences. Al, clearly, is not.

Al nods. She focuses on the road momentarily, just to make sure they don’t miss their turn, then looks to Alicia once more. “You still doing that not killing walkers thing?” Al asks.

Alicia glares at her. “Yes. And if you’re –”

“Whoa, slow down,” Al interrupts. “I’m just asking so I know how to approach this. Since I’ll have to kill everything.”

“If you have a problem –” Alicia cuts herself off when Al smiles gently.

“There’s no problem,” Al says, and Alicia can see the sincerity in her face as much as she hears it in her voice. “I respect your choice. I can handle the dead.”

Alicia relaxes, lets her defenses down a little. She’d expected to be ridiculed. Or worse. Then, after a moment, Alicia can’t believe she let herself care about Al’s reaction to her decision not to kill anything. (It’s her decision, of course, but it’s very much guided by Morgan, and something about that doesn’t quite sit right with Alicia. But she thinks she ought to at least give it a try. See if it helps with the nightmares or the panic attacks that she conceals from the rest of the caravan.) Al’s immediate acceptance of Alicia’s choice, no questions asked, causes Alicia to feel ten times more comfortable than before. Alicia puts her feet up on the dash, stretches out, and leans back as Al turns the music back up.

At least she doesn’t sing along anymore.

Alicia and Al are quiet until the truck rolls into the parking lot of the mall. Al pulls it straight up to the entrance and hops down before Alicia’s seatbelt is even off. Al reaches the other side of the truck and opens Alicia’s door for her right as Alicia gets her hand on the handle. Alicia blinks in surprise, hand hovering in midair where the door handle used to be. Al motions toward the mall.

“After you.”

Alicia steps out of the truck, and Al shuts the door. “Isn’t it smarter if you lead?” Alicia asks as Al hooks her thumbs through the belt loops of her pants.

Al shrugs. “Yeah.”

Alicia nods, lips parting in confusion as Al stays put. Alicia takes three steps past her, toward the doors, and Al follows. She’s really going to let Alicia lead the way into a mall that’s probably flooded with walkers. Alright. Cool. But Al’s legs are longer than Alicia’s, and she beats Alicia to the front door and holds it open her for.

“I guess chivalry isn’t dead,” Alicia quips.

“Chivalry,” Al snorts. “It’s called being polite.”

“Letting me go first when you know I won’t kill anything isn’t polite,” Alicia replies. She steps into the mall first anyway. “It’s kind of stupid.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Al dismisses. She pulls the door shut behind them as quietly as possible then grabs the trench spike from inside of her jacket.

“That’s kind of…sweet,” Alicia admits.

“Luciana and Strand will gut me if I come back without you,” Al says. “So the smart thing to do is keep you alive, right?”

Alicia rolls her eyes. “You could just pretend like you actually care about if I live or not.”

“I care,” Al argues. “You die, I die, sweetheart. Simple as that.”

Alicia huffs. She sticks close to Al, but the mall seems oddly empty so far. “Where do you think this guy is holed up?” Alicia asks. “Is it Chuck?”

“Charles, I think,” Al says.

“Close enough.”

“I don’t know where he is,” Al says. “That’s why we’re here. To find him.”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

The further they walk from the front doors, the more anxious Alicia gets. There hasn’t been a single walker, and Alicia’s half-tempted to bang on something to draw them out. She doesn’t like the idea of the dead lurking around a corner, waiting to attack. Not that Al isn’t totally capable of keeping them alive. Alicia trusts Al to do at least that much. Al, though, seems very unconcerned about the lack of walkers around them. She acts as if she’s on a leisurely stroll through a regular old mall. The hand that’s not holding the trench spike is jammed in her pocket. Alicia walks so close to Al, their arms nearly bump with each step they take. If Al notices, she doesn’t say anything.

They pass through the food court. Walk by an out of service carousel. Alicia doesn’t like the idea of poking around the entire mall until they find Chuck tied up and dying somewhere secluded. And it’s fucking dark in here.

As if Al’s had exactly the same thought, Al says, “There’s got to be a generator in here somewhere, right? It’s fucking dark.”

“How familiar are you with malls?” Alicia asks.

Al looks over at her, eyebrows pulling together. “I don’t remember the last time I set foot in a mall, Alicia.”

Alicia smiles wryly. “Luckily for you, I was _very _familiar with my local mall.”

Al grins and shakes her head. “I’m not surprised.”

“Watch it,” Alicia says. “I bet I can find that generator, though.”

“Then lead the way.”

Alicia hesitates but steers them in the direction she figures the generator’s going to be in. Al stays close, to Alicia’s relief. She was right about Luciana and Strand. They’ll kill her if she lets Alicia die.

The deeper they get into the mall, the darker it gets. Obviously. Alicia swallows hard as her heart starts to beat faster, but Al’s as unbothered as ever. She reaches into her jacket and wiggles out a compact flashlight, holding it out to Alicia.

“If you aren’t killing anything, at least hold the flashlight,” Al says. Alicia rolls her eyes and snatches the flashlight out of Al’s hand, clicking it on and aiming the beam of light down the hall. The light shines on a small cluster of walkers that have already turned their attention to Alicia and Al.

“Be careful,” Alicia warns as Al starts to step forward.

“Just keep the hallway lit, yeah?” Al says over her shoulder. She taps the trench spike against the wall to get all the walkers’ attention on her instead of on Alicia. Then she waits for them to shamble to her. She continues to insistently rap the metal spike against the wall, over and over, until the first walker’s within reach. Alicia counts the seconds it takes Al to dispatch all seven walkers.

Ten seconds.

Al pulls the spike free of the last walker’s skull and swipes it clean on the walker’s jacket. She motions Alicia along, and Alicia steps over the bodies of the walkers and follows along. She angles the light down the hall at the end in both directions, and Al pauses.

“Right or left?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” Alicia says.

Al smiles. “Just choose one.”

“Right.”

“Right it is,” Al says. Alicia hurries to keep up, to keep the light shining ahead of them in case there are more walkers. And there are bound to be more walkers. And there are, and Al kills every single one without breaking a sweat. They reach the room that should have the generator, and Al flings the door open, swiftly kills the walker behind it, and cracks her neck. “Fire that baby up,” Al says.

The generator roars to life, which could be a problem. The backup lights begin to come on, though, allowing Alicia to turn the flashlight off and hand it back to Al. Al takes the flashlight then takes Alicia’s wrist and yanks her out into the hall. Alicia stumbles, crying out in protest, and Al shushes her.

“What the –”

“We’re about to have company,” Al cuts in. “And I don’t need you in the way.”

Alicia pulls her wrist free of Al’s grasp, staring in disbelief at Al as they rush down the hall back the way they came. “They’re all going to come this way,” Alicia says.

“Obviously,” Al replies. “I’m thinking we can get ahead of them, let them flock to the generator, then find Charles and get out of here. Stay close.”

Alicia has no problem obeying. She hesitates but grabs a handful of Al’s jacket and lets Al pull her along through the halls, toward the nearest set of escalators. Just as they reach the bottom, the dead round the corner and set their eyes on Alicia and Al.

“Shit,” Al hisses. Alicia looks to the escalators, now moving thanks to the loud ass generator. “Go up,” Al decides, shoving Alicia closer to the escalator. “Hurry!”

Alicia rushes to the top just to find the dead leaking out of the halls upstairs. Al’s still riding the escalator up as the dead begin to pile onto the bottom. Al twists to look up at Alicia, staring wide-eyed at the oncoming walkers. Al curses to herself and climbs up the remaining steps, setting foot on unmoving ground right before the first walker reaches Alicia. The trench spike goes in and out of its ear, and the body drops at Alicia’s feet as Al turns to kill another one.

“Al, they’re coming up!” Alicia says.

“Shut the escalator down,” Al says through her teeth. She kicks one walker back, kills another, and flings one over the railing, sending it to the lower level. Its head splatters on the tile, and Alicia flinches. The dead are halfway up the escalator now, and Alicia drops to her knees and rips open the control panel while Al continues to fend off the dead. Alicia doesn’t know what to fucking do to stop the escalator. She starts pushing buttons and pulling on wires until finally, the escalator reverses and sends the dead tumbling backward.

Alicia breathes a sigh of relief and gets back to her feet. Slowly but surely, Al’s clearing them a path to a nearby security room, and Alicia’s careful to stay two steps behind Al the entire time. Al reaches the door and flings it open. Alicia half expects to find Chuck tied to the desk chair or something, but the room’s empty. Al ushers Alicia in first, kills one more walker, then pulls the door shut. She twists the lock on the doorknob, like that’s going to make any difference, then falls back against the door as the dead bang their fists against it.

“So we trapped ourselves in here so the dead can congregate outside?” Alicia questions.

“Shut up,” Al says breathlessly. “I need a break.”

Al pushes away from the door as Alicia begins to poke around. Al drops the trench spike, slick with walker blood, onto the desk as Alicia grabs what appears to be an escape backpack out of the far corner of the room. Alicia rummages through it quickly, setting anything that might be of use on the desk with the trench spike. A knife. A second flashlight. Three water bottles. Four protein bars. A handkerchief. And a full bottle of whiskey.

“Here,” Alicia says quietly. She holds her hand out, and Al raises her eyebrows in confusion until Alicia picks up the handkerchief and grabs Al by the wrist. Alicia does her best to wipe all the walker blood off Al’s hand then the trench spike and its handle. She throws the handkerchief away in the little trash bin beside the desk then pulls out the desk chair and drops into it. The dead continue to bang their fists on the door, but the room has no windows, so if they’re quiet – and lucky – maybe the dead will lose interest.

“You think we can get those cameras up?” Al asks.

“I’m not a tech person,” Alicia says. “I have no idea.”

Al nods and begins to unbutton her jacket. She sets the jacket on the desk then starts unbuttoning her shirt. She gets halfway before Alicia leans forward and physically stops her.

“What?” Al says. “I just killed, like, a hundred walkers. I’m hot.”

Alicia bites her tongue so she doesn’t accidentally agree with Al out loud and silently releases Al’s wrist so Al can finish unbuttoning her shirt. Thankfully, she has a tank top underneath, so Alicia won’t be tempted to stare. Too much. Al throws her shirt onto the desk then takes a seat on the floor, pressing her back to the wall and planting her boots against the tile. Alicia spins around in the chair to face her.

“Now what?” Alicia asks.

“Now we wait to see if the dead forget about us and leave,” Al says.

“And if they don’t?”

Al manages a tired smile. “Then we wait until I get my energy back, and I’ll fight our way out.”

“And Chuck?”

“Has to wait, for now,” Al says. “I was hoping we’d get those cameras and monitors back up so we could locate him.”

Alicia nods. She grabs one of the protein bars and tosses it into Al’s lap. “Eat that,” she suggests. Al doesn’t argue. They eat in silence and throw the wrappers away in the trash. The dead continue to make their presence known, so Alicia does the next logical thing. She opens the bottle of whiskey and takes a long swig before Al can do anything to stop her. But Al doesn’t even move. She just holds her hand out when Alicia’s done.

Alicia passes the bottle over. They’re going to be here for a while. Being trapped in a mall with Al is one thing, but being trapped in a small room within the mall? Terrible. Alicia doesn’t even know what to say.

“Thank you,” Alicia says.

“Huh?”

“Thank you,” Alicia repeats. “For killing the walkers.”

Al waves her off, drinks more whiskey. “Yeah, man,” Al says. “Whatever. It’s part of the job or something.”

Alicia pauses. “We’re going to be stuck here for a while, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.”

“What are we gonna do?”

Al shakes her head. “I don’t know. Talk?”

Alicia snorts. “Talk? About what?”

“Anything,” Al says. “Otherwise we’re going to sit and stare at the wall and be bored as shit.”

She has a point. Alicia stands from the desk chair, pushes it in, and drops herself to the ground beside Al. She takes the whiskey back and drinks more herself.

“Helping people can never just be easy, can it?” Alicia complains. She hands the whiskey back to Al and continues, “It’s always gotta be some big thing. We crash a plane. Morgan steps on a landmine. Why can’t we just roll up, shoot a couple walkers, and save these people?”

Al laughs. “You haven’t been killing much of anything lately, Alicia.”

“You know what I mean,” Alicia says. “Every time we try to help someone, it turns into a giant mess.”

“Maybe it’s a sign,” Al muses.

“A sign of what?”

“A sign that maybe we should worry a little more about helping ourselves.”

Alicia hesitates. “I don’t know. I mean, we’re pretty well off, right? Helping people is the right thing –”

“Now you’re just parroting Morgan.”

Alicia sighs. “It’s what my mom would want.”

Al turns her head so she can properly send Alicia an inquisitive look. “Is it, though?” Al asks. “I met your mom.”

“But you didn’t know her.”

Al hums. “She was willing to do anything to get back to you,” Al says. “Anything including killing me to steal my van. Would that have been the right thing to do?”

There’s an awkward pause before Alicia mutters, “No, not really.”

“Maybe you should reevaluate what your mom would have wanted for you.”

“Maybe,” Alicia concedes. “What? Are you trying to tell me you don’t believe in what we’re doing?”

Al shrugs, drinks again, then answers, “I don’t know. I’m kind of just along for the ride. Doing this gives me a chance to film, at least.”

“You didn’t even bring your camera,” Alicia points out.

“Because I came with you,” Al says. An _oh crap _kind of look crosses her face, and she quickly explains, “I just mean whenever anyone goes on runs with you, they know they have to do all the killing. I can’t kill walkers and film at the same time. I mean, I could, but that’s unnecessarily dangerous.”

Alicia grunts. “I guess.”

“I should’ve brought the camera,” Al says. “I could’ve had you film everything.”

“It’s kind of nice, though. Not having a camera constantly being shoved in your face,” Alicia teases.

Al rolls her eyes. “Yeah. It’s great.”

“It’s harder to talk to you when you’ve got that thing rolling,” Alicia says.

“Is that your excuse?” Al questions.

“What?”

Al grins. “Is that your excuse for not trying to talk to me, like, ever?”

“I talk to you,” Alicia defends, but she winces when she realizes that, no, she really doesn’t. Not a lot, at least. And never one-on-one. It’s kind of crazy, actually, that they’ve never gotten an actual moment alone. Alicia supposes there’s always too many other people around, and she’s never had a reason to try to get Al alone.

“Bullshit,” Al laughs. “This is the longest conversation we’ve ever had, and it hasn’t even been five minutes.”

“Wow,” Alicia says. She feels her face heating up and drinks more whiskey in an attempt to hide it. She swallows hard and adds, “That’s kinda bad.”

“Kind of?” Al says. “We’ve known each other for a while, and I don’t think I could tell you one thing about you that didn’t have to do with your family or Morgan’s strange philosophies.”

“Well, I barely know anything about you,” Alicia retorts. “Even less than you know about me, that’s for sure.”

“What’s there to know?” Al replies. “I told you my last name.”

“You know my last name,” Alicia says. “And you know my mom and brother died. You know _how _they died. And I only know your last name and that you like really bad country music.”

“Hey! Don’t knock my music taste,” Al says, cracking a smile. “I like all kinds of genres, thank you very much.” Al inhales deeply, runs her fingers through her hair, and asks, “What do you want to know about me?”

“I don’t know,” Alicia says. “Something personal.”

“Like what?”

“You know who I’ve lost,” Alicia says softly. “What about you?”

Al’s silent for a long time. She takes two more sips of whiskey during that silence, exhales heavily, and stares at the wall instead of at Alicia. “I’ve lost everyone,” Al finally says.

“Who were they?”

“Parents,” Al says. “Siblings. Friends. You know. Everyone.”

“You’re being vague on purpose.”

“Most people don’t ask you to recount all your lost loved ones,” Al says.

“I’m not most people.”

Al laughs. “I’ve noticed. You’re…”

“I’m what?” Alicia prompts.

“Different.”

“How?”

Al inhales then pauses. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she says. “But you’re literally a killing machine. You kill walkers better than anyone else I’ve ever met, myself included, and I’m pretty damn good at it. But you’ve stopped. You won’t kill them, even though you’re good at it. Even though it’s better if they’re dead.”

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

“And I don’t understand,” Al agrees. “And I don’t think I will, even if you try to explain it.”

Alicia nods stiffly. “It’s okay. You’re the first person who hasn’t judged me for it. To my face, at least.”

Al shrugs. “We do what we gotta do. If you have to stop killing the dead, then okay. That’s why you’ve got people that have your back.”

“That’s…sweet.”

Al laughs. “Shut up.”

Alicia smiles and stares down at the bottle of whiskey in her hands. She puts the cap on, figuring they shouldn’t get drunk while Chuck’s still relying on them. She sets the bottle aside and leans back heavily into the wall, letting her legs splay out in front of her. She slouches down, exhaling, and she listens to the dead continuing to bang on the door.

“You were young,” Al says abruptly. “When the dead started walking.”

“I was headed to college.”

“Young,” Al insists. “I mean, I was young, too. Mid-twenties. But I thought I had everything worked out, you know? I’d graduated. I had a job – a career. I knew what I was doing, what I wanted. I had my life fucking planned out.”

“So did I.”

“Yeah, but it’s different,” Al says. “I was actually carrying that plan out. I bought a house, even though I wasn’t really living in it because of my job. But I had, like, a mortgage. I had someone I loved. I had a plan.” Al slaps her hand against the floor, and Alicia jumps but recovers quickly. She hopes Al didn’t see it.

“And?”

Al rolls her head so she can stare at Alicia. Al’s eyes are oddly shiny, but she musters up a smile and whispers, “And the person you love succumbs to some strange illness while you’re halfway around the world, and you rush back just to find society crumbling. And your whole plan falls to pieces, but they aren’t pieces you can pick up and put back together.”

“I get it.”

Al smiles again and blinks away the shininess in her eyes. “I don’t think you do.”

“Were you married?” Alicia blurts. She expects Al to ignore her or change the subject, but Al just shakes her head and stares down at her hands.

“No,” Al says.

“But there was someone.”

“Yeah,” Al answers. “But I lived in Texas. So I wasn’t married.”

It takes Alicia an embarrassing amount of time to work that one out. “Oh,” she says once she’s finally sure she understands correctly. “Why didn’t you just move?”

Al grins. “Believe it or not, you are not the first person to ask me that question. My girlfriend’s job was in Texas. Both of our families were in Texas. Our lives were there. So we couldn’t get married. Big deal. I wasn’t going to force her to abandon her life to start over in a state where we could get married when I wasn’t even going to be in the country most of the time.”

“Did you want to get married?”

Al thinks that over for a second then clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “You know, it would’ve been nice.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

Al laughs. “Don’t be sorry. That’s another life, sweetheart. Marriage doesn’t even exist in this life.”

“Only as a concept.”

“Exactly. So what does it matter if I was married back then or not?”

“I guess it doesn’t.”

“What about you?” Al asks. “Were you married?”

“Hell no,” Alicia says. “I was barely starting college.”

“Where at?”

“Berkeley.”

Al laughs. “Fancy.”

“Shut up,” Alicia mutters. “I worked my ass off to get into that school, and my mother barely cared. She was too busy dealing with Nick.”

Al’s eyebrows pull together, and Alicia realizes she’s said too much. Her face heats up, and she shakes her head.

“Forget it, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

Alicia smiles sardonically. “It was another life.”

Al holds her hand out. “Give me the whiskey.”

Alicia hesitates. “We can’t get drunk,” she says. “We have to deal with the walkers.”

“You mean _I _have to deal with the walkers,” Al corrects. “And we have to find Charles. But I’m not anywhere near drunk. So give it here.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll fight you for it,” Al says with a grin. But she’s dead serious. She wiggles her fingers impatiently. “C’mon. Hand it over.”

“Seriously,” Alicia says. “Don’t get drunk.”

“Please,” Al laughs. Alicia hands the bottle back, mostly because she doesn’t want to have to fight Al. “I’m not even buzzed, Alicia. You made me think about what I’ve lost, so I could use a drink,” Al explains. She takes a drink then returns the bottle to Alicia. Al swallows and adds, “Cut me off now, though.”

“Don’t fight me for it.”

“I won’t fight you,” Al promises. She rubs at her temples, exhales, then looks toward the door. There are still fists knocking on it, but it’s with less urgency. The dead are slowly but surely losing interest. “We need to see if we can get those cameras online,” Al says. She shoves herself to her feet and offers a hand to Alicia. Alicia lets Al pull her to her feet and tries not to think about how her head’s spinning even though she’s barely had anything to drink. She really can’t hold her liquor well. While Alicia focuses on trying to shake off the dizziness, Al stares pointedly down at their hands.

“Oh,” Alicia says. She pulls her hand back, blushing. “Sorry.”

Al shrugs. “We need to find Charles.”

“Are you sure you can handle the dead?” Alicia asks.

“The cameras should give me an idea of what we’re looking at,” Al points out. Alicia watches as Al gets the monitors up and running, giving them a look at every inch of the mall. The herd they left at the bottom of the escalators is still there, but the dead outside of the security room have scattered throughout the upper level again, except for the few still lingering right by the door. Al can kill a few walkers at a time, no problem.

“Wait, what’s that?” Alicia questions, pressing her index finger against one of the monitors.

“What?”

“There’s a guy,” Alicia says, tapping her finger against the screen. “On the roof! It’s gotta be Chuck.”

“Charles,” Al reminds. She squints at the monitor and nods. “Alright. The roof it is.”

Al puts her shirt back on over her tank top but doesn’t button it. She does the same with her jacket, putting it on but not buttoning it. Alicia quickly packs the meager supplies into the backpack and slings it over her shoulder. Al picks up the trench spike then sets her eyes on Alicia.

“You ready?” Al asks.

“Of course.”

Al nods. “Stay close.”

“I know the drill.”

“You die, I die,” Al says, flashing a smile. Her expression quickly turns serious, though. “I mean it. I’ll have to flee the caravan if I don’t bring you back.”

Alicia rolls her eyes. “Stop worrying about me.”

Al looks doubtful. “Oh, I’m worried.”

“Well, stop.”

“Nah,” Al says. “Let’s get this over with, yeah?”

Al throws the door open before Alicia responds and kills the first walker that shows its ugly face. Alicia grabs onto Al’s shoulder and lets Al guide them through the halls, kill the walkers, and lead them up to the roof. Alicia hadn’t realized how much time had gone by, but the sky’s beginning to darken. Chuck looks over as Alicia and Al step up onto the roof, and he immediately starts to laugh.

“You’re here,” he says breathlessly. “You made it.”

“We made it,” Al confirms. Chuck’s got himself handcuffed to a pole, and for good reason. He’s showing all the classic signs of infection. By the looks of it, he’s got maybe a couple more hours at the most. “How you doing, Charles?” Al asks.

“Chuck,” he says. “You can call me Chuck.”

“Told you,” Alicia mutters, and Al only just restrains herself from elbowing Alicia in the gut.

“I’m Al,” Al tells Chuck. “And this is Alicia.”

“Nice to meet you,” Chuck says.

“We’ve got something for you, if you want it,” Alicia says. She drops the backpack to the ground and pulls out the bottle of whiskey. “We sorta helped ourselves to it first. Sorry.”

Chuck grins. “You guys really thought of everything.”

“Sometimes you just get lucky,” Al replies.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Chuck admits, accepting the bottle of whiskey. “For a while there, I was afraid I’d have to die alone.”

“You’re not gonna die alone,” Al assures him. She takes a seat on the roof next to him, and Alicia makes her way around to his other side and mimics Al’s cross-legged position. Chuck takes a long gulp of whiskey. Alicia sits stiffly, wringing her hands in her lap, but her eyes lock with Al’s, and she finds herself relaxing a little.

“I don’t think I have long,” Chuck whispers.

“It’s okay, man,” Al says, grasping onto his shoulder. “You’re not alone.”

“Don’t let me hurt you,” Chuck warns.

“We’ll take care of it,” Al says. “You have my word.”

Chuck nods. Al releases his shoulder but holds out her hand instead. Chuck takes it, and Alicia finds herself offering him her hand as well. First, though, she removes the handcuffs. There’s really no reason for them. Alicia trusts Al to take care of it when the time comes.

Alicia figures if Chuck wanted to talk, he would, but he stays silent. So the three of them sit in relative silence, staring up at the stars, until Chuck takes his final breath. Al makes sure it’s actually his last breath then pulls out the trench spike. Alicia releases Chuck’s hand. She can’t help herself. She turns away before Al makes sure Chuck won’t be getting back up.

“I can kill the rest of the dead,” Al offers. “So we can get his body buried and have somewhere to stay for the night. I saw a mattress store in there.”

Alicia hesitates. “I wish I could help,” she says softly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Al dismisses. “I’ve got it.”

“Thank you.”

Al waves it off. “You just get him down.”

While Alicia’s in charge of getting Chuck’s body to the ground level, Al wipes out every last walker trapped in the mall. She’s broken a sweat by the time the final walker falls, leaving Alicia to dig Chuck’s grave. When the grave is covered with dirt, Al and Alicia take a moment to stand at the graveside. Neither speaks.

Growling catches their attention, and Al smoothly pulls the shovel from the dirt and swings it at the walker’s head. Its brains splatter across the grass, and Al pushes the shovel back into the dirt and leaves it there.

“We should go back in,” Al says. “Try to get some rest. The others will be here in the morning to get us and the supplies.”

Alicia nods and opens her mouth to verbally agree, but instead, she bursts into tears. Al startles, reaches for her, but Alicia’s initial instinct is to push her away. She knocks Al’s arm aside with one hand, muffling her sobs with the other in case there are more walkers nearby. Al doesn’t seem to be concerned by the idea of more walkers, though. The moment after Alicia pushes her arm away, Al tries again. This time, Alicia gives in, pressing her face to Al’s shoulder. Alicia gets one arm around Al’s neck and holds on for dear life.

Al doesn’t let go.

Alicia can’t even estimate how long she clings to Al. Her crying dies off eventually, leaving Alicia gasping for each breath. She thought she was tired before, but now she’s downright exhausted. Alicia’s pretty sure the only reason she’s still on her feet is because Al’s holding her up. Alicia finally lifts her head from Al’s shoulder and considers apologizing for soaking through Al’s jacket with her tears.

Al dips her head, though, placing her lips right next to Alicia’s ear, and she murmurs, “I have an idea. If you’re up for it.”

Alicia nods and swipes the tear tracks from her face without letting go of Al. “I’m sorry,” Alicia whispers.

“It’s been a long day,” Al says. Alicia’s eyes shift up to Al’s face, and Al smiles gently. “Come on. I think this might make it better.”

Al gets the carousel started without trouble and motions for Alicia to get on.

“Ladies first,” Al jokes.

“This is ridiculous,” Alicia replies. Al’s grin leaves Alicia fighting off a smile, and Al just shrugs.

“Suit yourself,” Al says.

“Wait,” Alicia calls. “The tiger’s mine!”

Al laughs and hauls herself up onto the horse adjacent to the tiger. She laughs again as Alicia fails to get onto the tiger on her first try. Once Alicia’s on, she leans her weight into the pole, turning her head to face Al.

“This is ridiculous,” Alicia says.

“You already said that,” Al says. “But it got you to smile, didn’t it?”

“No,” Alicia lies.

Al nods in acknowledgement and closes her eyes. Alicia can tell Al’s just as – if not more – exhausted as she is. Al’s just better at hiding it, but she’s killed every single walker they’ve encountered. That was probably at least a hundred. Literally. Her muscles have to be killing her.

While Al’s eyes are closed, Alicia stares at her unabashedly. Alicia feels something outside of what’s become her usual range of emotions. Even though Chuck’s death weighs on her shoulders, Alicia feels almost…good.

The ride comes to an end, but Al doesn’t move. Alicia slides off the tiger, holding onto the pole until she’s sure her legs aren’t going to give out under her, and she grabs onto Al’s arm.

“Hey,” Alicia says. “We should go sleep.”

Al’s eyes open, and Alicia wonders if maybe she just woke Al up. “Yeah,” Al grunts, pushing her hair back from her face. “Where’s that mattress store?”

“Not far,” Alicia says. She holds her hand out. “Come on.”

To Alicia’s surprise, Al takes her hand before hopping off the horse. Their eyes meet while their hands are still clasped between them. Al’s eyebrows raise. “What?” Al asks.

“Thank you,” Alicia says, squeezing Al’s hand tighter. “For killing the dead and taking care of Chuck and for this.” Alicia hesitates, shakes her head, then mutters, “As shitty as everything is, some of today was actually pretty nice.”

“Especially considering we barely know each other,” Al reminds.

“I feel like I know you better than I did this morning, even,” Alicia says. She realizes she still hasn’t let go of Al’s hand, but Al hasn’t made any move to stop her. Alicia smiles and teases, “Maybe I’d even be willing to call you my friend.”

“I feel honored,” Al says wryly.

Alicia swallows hard. There’s a strange feeling in her stomach – something Alicia hasn’t felt in a long time. And that scares her more than anything, because she knows this feeling leads to inevitable, unbearable pain. Just like it did with Jake.

“What’s wrong?” Al asks. She releases Alicia’s hand to brush a stray lock of hair behind Alicia’s ear.

When Al’s hand lingers a moment too long, Alicia grabs her by the back of the neck and pulls her down. Alicia’s definitely not thinking straight, but Al doesn’t resist, eagerly matching Alicia’s pace the second their lips touch. Alicia immediately wants more, but her body’s as exhausted as her mind. She has to hold onto Al to stay on her feet, so that thought goes out the window. But Alicia will take what she can get. She grasps onto Al’s jacket with one hand, pushes the other through Al’s hair.

Al pulls back first but allows for Alicia to press their foreheads together while Alicia catches her breath. Alicia keeps her hand knotted in Al’s hair until she feels like she can breathe properly again.

They make their way to the mattress store without talking. Alicia tries not to think about the way her lips are still tingling and helps Al lock up the mattress store. Alicia tests four different mattresses, but Al just drops onto the nearest one and knocks out. Alicia lies awake, listening to the soft sounds of Al breathing, until she can’t stay awake any longer.

Alicia wakes up to voices and panics. She pats herself down, but she doesn’t have a weapon on her. She’s not going to kill anything, so why should she?

“Good morning,” a familiar voice greets. Alicia’s eyes search for the source, and she finds Al lingering in the doorway, hands jammed into her pockets. Al smiles as Alicia stares at her, dumbfounded. Alicia quickly shoves herself up off the mattress, straightening out her clothes and fixing her hair.

“Everyone’s here,” Alicia says.

“Yeah,” Al says. “We’re loading up.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Alicia grumbles.

“You needed the sleep,” Al says.

Alicia sighs but lets it go. Now that the whole caravan is here, Alicia realizes, she and Al are going back to normal. Back to never having a full conversation or even being alone in the same room together. Back to living totally separate lives. The realization knocks the wind out of Alicia, and for a moment, she feels like she can’t breathe.

“Oh, hey,” Al says, scratching at the back of her neck. “There’s been a mix up with the seating in the caravan,” she informs. “Morgan did some shuffling to accommodate Grace, so you’re with me in the truck we came in, yeah?”

Relief washes over Alicia, and she barely manages to say, “Just promise me no more country music.”

Al laughs and throws Alicia a wink that makes her heart pick up its pace. “No promises.”

**Author's Note:**

> So 5x10 bored the crap out of me, and I would've much rather had something closer to this happen, but oh well. I guess that's what fanfic is for. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I'll respond as quickly as possible!
> 
> (Quick update: I'm starting a HUGE ass project which is going to be VERY depressing but I'm excited for it so stay tuned!!)


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